Charm (9 page)

Cinderella turned and ran. She didn’t look back.

T
he sky was blue overhead and, although it remained freezing cold, the sun shone down on the street as the fanfare played and the procession of prince’s men pulled up in their street. Cinderella’s father refused to come downstairs. Even Esme was subdued as she and Rose waited in the sitting room, with Cinderella loitering in the background pretending to stoke up the fire. Rose, in her best dress, was sitting in an armchair. Her face was pale, no doubt she was in agony with her injured foot. Cinderella caught her eye and the two girls shared a wan smile. Esme didn’t look at either of them. Cinderella wasn’t sure she could bring herself to. The shouting had stopped when she’d seen what Rose had done, and there were dark circles around her eyes that no longer held fevered madness.

As the footmen swept in, the familiar diamond slipper glittering on a red cushion, for a brief moment Cinderella wished it would fit Rose so they could be done with it. Or better still, for it to fit neither of them and to pass them by.

‘His royal highness has decreed that whomever this shoe fits, he shall take as his betrothed. Every young woman in the land is required to try it on.’ The man looked tired and spoke the words wearily. ‘Ma’am. If you would,’ he said to Rose. He lowered the cushion and placed the shoe at her feet. Rose looked at it and laughed a little; a low sad sound. ‘I cut the wrong foot,’ she said, softly. ‘How typical.’

‘Ma’am?’ the footman asked.

She ignored him and lifted her right foot, pushing it into the glass. Her heel hung half an inch over the back and she couldn’t squeeze it in any further. Cinderella didn’t think she tried very hard, and nor could she blame her.

‘Well, that’s that then,’ Esme said. After all the hysteria of the previous two weeks, her voice was now calm and empty. ‘Thank you.’

The footman picked up the shoe and brought it over to Cinderella, ‘Ma’am. If you would.’

Cinderella’s heart raced. She couldn’t help it.

‘She didn’t go to the ball,’ her step-mother said. ‘You needn’t bother with her.’

‘All the ladies in the land.’ The footman gave a small smile. In his exhaustion he could barely raise the corners of his mouth. ‘Otherwise I’m going to have to start all over again.’

Cinderella carefully lifted her foot. She could feel the warmth from the strange diamond slipper already. Her sole had barely touched the inside when she felt it tighten gently around her, moulding itself to her shape.

There was a long moment’s silence as the truth dawned on them all.

‘It fits!’ The footman’s mouth had dropped open. ‘It finally fits!’

‘But that’s not possible!’ Esme was staring at her in disbelief. ‘How did you . . . How . . . why didn’t you say?’

‘You.’ Rose’s voice was cold as she pulled herself upright painfully. ‘It was you all along.’

It was Cinderella’s turn to avoid their faces. Her heart raced with excitement but her stomach squirmed in shame. Still. She lifted her chin. She’d make it better for all of them. They’d see that when they calmed down. Surely they would.

T
here wasn’t a lot of time for discussion. As soon the footman had stepped back outside with the shoe and announced that the girl had been found to the prince’s guard, a team of men arrived to start packing up their possessions ready to move them into the castle and their new royal apartments. Whatever misgivings her step-mother might have initially had evaporated as the realisation that her dreams had been achieved after all took hold. She squeezed Cinderella’s cheeks and kissed her on the forehead, declaring that she’d always been the prettiest of the girls and how could she not have recognised that glorious red hair when she’d seen it at the ball.

Cinderella had wanted to point out that it was probably because ever since Ivy got married Rose had been the sole focus of her attention, and she’d been pretty much forgotten, but decided that silence on the matter might be her best option. Esme took to directing the packers who were dismantling their old life and home with alarming speed. A little over an hour later several tailors showed up with a selection of fine dresses for the women and suits for Cinderella’s father. Their old clothes would not do for life at the castle.

After they had fussed over Cinderella, dressing her in an ermine-trimmed silver dress almost the same colour as the one she’d worn at the ball, she picked out several other dresses and took them upstairs. With her heart slightly in her mouth, she knocked on Rose’s door. Her step-sister was sitting on the edge of her bed looking around at all her books and old toys that she’d never brought herself to throw away.

‘I picked you out some dresses,’ Cinderella said. ‘They’re very beautiful.’

Rose looked at her. ‘Why didn’t you just say?’ She ignored the dresses and, feeling awkward, Cinderella lay them out across the mattress.

‘They’re all for you. I picked the prettiest ones.’

‘You must have been laughing at me all this time.’ Rose stared into space again. ‘All this time.’

‘No!’ The words were like darts into Cinderella’s heart. ‘No, I wasn’t! I just didn’t know how to say . . . I didn’t know what to say . . . I’m so sorry.’ Tears stung her eyes.

‘What did I ever do to you? You’re my little sister. I’ve always looked after you.’

‘Rose – I—’

‘Just leave me alone. I’ll put on one of your precious dresses. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your prince.’

‘I don’t care about . . .’ Cinderella couldn’t finish the sentence. She
did
care about the prince. She cared that her family arrived looking as fine as they could. She cared about going to live in the castle and marrying the man all the girls wanted. She couldn’t help it.

Rose smiled sadly. ‘As long as you’ve got what you wanted, eh, Cinderella? I guess that’s all that matters.’

Her face flushed, Cinderella backed out of the room and closed the door. A cold wind rushed up the stairs as men trekked in and out carrying clocks, chairs and boxes of china and cutlery that Esme deemed fit enough to take with them. Cinderella peered over the bannister. Her step-mother seemed to be taking a lot of their ordinary things. Why wouldn’t she just leave them behind? There would be better things in the castle. Their possessions would just look cheap.

‘I’m very disappointed in you.’

The voice made her jump, and she turned to see her father standing on the bottom step of the stairs that led up to his attic study. ‘But now we’re going to live in the castle,’ she said. It sounded lame. It was. That wasn’t what her father was talking about and she knew it.

‘I can almost forgive the deception. Sneaking out to the ball – although how you did it I’ll never know and I’m not sure I want to – was wrong, but I know how much you wanted to go. But this behaviour – watching everything your step-mother and Rose have been through these past few weeks—’

‘She’s been crazy!’ Cinderella blurted out. ‘That’s not my fault.’

‘Your step-mother is going through . . . well, there’s a time of life that comes to all women. It’s difficult. And times have been hard since the newspaper closed down and my work has been less regular. Your step-mother wants us to have both worlds. And if anyone can make that happen she can. We’ve talked about it. She thinks at court we could get the newspaper started again. We could make things better for a lot of people.’ He paused and stared at Cinderella. ‘But your behaviour towards your sister and the rest of us has been plain selfish. Perhaps it’s our fault. We’ve always spoiled you. You were the favourite baby of the family.’

Spoilt? Her? Cinderella couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

‘I never thought I’d say this,’ her father turned back to the stairs, ‘but you’re reminding me of your mother.’

Alone in the hallway, Cinderella’s shock turned to anger and she seethed quietly. Where was the gratitude? She’d just completely changed their lives for the better! Where were the congratulations? She’d fallen in love and was going to marry the man of her dreams. Surely her own father should be happy for her? She stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door, and she didn’t care if it made her sound like a child. Not even a spoilt one.

H
er bad mood vanished once she stepped up into the golden carriage the prince sent for her, a silver one directly behind it for the rest of her family. The whole street came out to see them off, and Cinderella knew that at least her step-mother would be bursting with pride. Her respectability was being restored to her – in grand style – and it was all down to Cinderella. She settled back in the luxurious fur cushions and looked out of the window at all the ordinary people coming out of their houses, curious to see her as the delicate wheels carried her quickly back to the castle. It was a perfect distraction from thinking about the diamond slippers and the magic she had used to grab the prince’s attention. He’d fall in love with her without them anyway. She was sure of that. He just had to get to know her.

He was waiting for her on the sweeping stairs, now coated in a red carpet, and lined with wigged courtiers. As she stepped down, the crowds who filled the streets and stretched out from their balconies to catch a glimpse of her, cheered wildly. Cinderella barely heard them. Although the rest of the city was still filthy after the storm the castle gleamed white and all the windows glinted in the winter sunshine truly making it a castle of light. It was as glorious in the daylight as it had been at night, and, Cinderella thought as she fell into a deep curtsey, so was the prince. She smiled at him and he smiled back, but there was an edge of wariness in the look. He snapped his fingers and a servant stepped forward quickly carrying the cushion with the shoe and placed it on the step in front of her.

Only when she slipped her foot into it again, lifting her leg elegantly so he could see how perfect the fit was, did the prince’s smile break into a grin.

‘My darling,’ he said, leaning forward and kissing her. ‘I’m so glad I’ve found you.’ He looked up at the crowd. Around them the courtiers burst into cheers, and she took his arm as he led her into the castle.

Her family’s apartments were quite magnificent. The living area alone was bigger than the ground floor of their old house, now locked up and forgotten, and windows ran almost from floor to ceiling, with heavy gold and silver drapes hanging to either side. Servants dashed here and there making lists of all their requirements, Esme insisting on having a writing desk and chair placed by the window with the best view of the city, where her husband could finish his novel and write his articles. Cinderella watched as her father smiled at her step-mother and she saw in that moment how much he loved her. He would not complain about this new life if it made her happy.

Rose’s room was next to her own and there was an inter-connecting door between the two vast boudoirs. Cinderella wondered if they’d ever use it. She doubted it. Not that she’d be in her own room for long. Soon they would have the wedding and she’d be in the prince’s bed. She remembered how his kisses had made her feel on the night of the ball and wondered if she could wait until she was married. And would it matter that much if she didn’t? The world was suddenly her oyster. Perhaps Rose wouldn’t be in her room too long either. She’d be a fine catch for a nobleman now, and Cinderella was determined to advocate a good match for her, if only to ease the nagging sense of guilt she couldn’t quite shake off.

The royal surgeon visited Rose that evening before dinner to examine her foot. Cinderella’s new maids were dressing her when he left, but she was sure she could hear crying from the other room. Dismissing the two girls – and rather enjoying the powerful feeling that gave her – she opened the middle door a crack to hear what was being said.

‘It’s okay, mother,’ Rose said. ‘It’s just a limp.’

‘But needing a stick forever?’ Esme was crying, one arm round her daughter. ‘I’m so sorry. It was madness. It’s all my fault.’

‘Beauty has never been my finest feature. And
you
didn’t try to cut my toe off. I did.’

‘Because of me.’

‘It’s done now.’ Rose kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘I love you. Now let’s get ready for dinner and show the royal family we know how to play this game as well as they do.’

Cinderella closed the door and leaned against it, feeling slightly sick. How could her seizing her own happiness have caused so much unhappiness for others? It would get better. It would. She lay on her bed, careful not to mess up her freshly styled hair, and waited for dinner. She pushed all the sad thoughts from her mind and concentrated on how happy dancing with the prince had made her. She tried not to think about how the prince had been looking at Rose before she’d cut across his path that night, wearing her enchanted shoes. It made something in her stomach twist; something dark and unpleasant that made her feel like a thief.

T
he king was a large, gruff man whose hair was a shock of white beneath his crown and his formal robes were tight around a body that was once no doubt thick-set and muscular, but now was veering towards fat as the weight slipped from his chest and shoulders and settled around his middle. His eyes were still sharp though. When they’d been drinking champagne before dinner and the prince had introduced her, Cinderella had done her best to remember what she’d learned from eavesdropping on the lessons Rose had endured, and complimented him on his beautiful castle, and answered his questions as well as she could. But she couldn’t help but be distracted by the hairs sprouting from his ears and nose and her knowledge of contemporary art and music was quite lacking.